He Doesn't Love Me Not
by fangirlxfantasies
Summary: For John Morrison, harrassing Miz comes naturally to him, but how should he react when he realizes he has feelings for him? Maybe acting like an a-hole could win his heart...right? SLASH! Miz/Mor
1. Chapter 1

**A/n from Jessica: So i got a new story idea! this might take kind of of a couple chapters but hey, at least im trying to write consistantly again! lemme know your feelings on it guys, i miss having reviews! btw, loved venting my mizfit feelings in this chapter...my mizzy boo deserved that win so much! all you hatas and miztakes can suck it! yeah!**

**warning: just some cussing and slash, stuff happens in later chaps tho...**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the WWE, don't own anyone**

* * *

Miz smiled wide as he came from behind the curtain, clutching his new WWE title close to his chest. He'd finally did it. Everything he had been working for his whole life was now his. He was in the league of some of the greatest workers this business had ever seen: Bret Hart, Shawn Michaels, Stone Cold Steve Austin…he was holding the proof of that right in his hands. He _actually _had tangible evidence. If anyone dare question his success again…if they ever claimed he didn't deserve to be in the WWE—wasn't even fit to wrestle with the divas…he could _show_ them just how much he meant to this company…how much they needed him.

He continued down the hallway, accepting the congratulations he received from a handful of superstars as he passed graciously, practically shining as bright as the belt itself as he walked into the locker room. It almost hadn't even sunk in yet. He was the champion. Mike Mizanin from Parma, Ohio was now World Wrestling Entertainment's poster boy—the _real_ face of the company.

He picked the belt from off of his shoulder, weighing the heavy title in his hands, before putting it on his waist, fastening the clasps in back. This was _his._ For the foreseeable future, _he_ would be champion. He would be in all the main events, would be the focus of the entire show.

Mike's smile grew wider, facing the mirror opposite him as he trailed his fingers across the front of the belt, toying with the main emblem.

This was _his_ dammit! And he was going to be damned if he let anyone ruin that.

"Ya know Mike, whoever's _actually_ champion is going to want their belt back in a few minutes."

Mike sighed, dropping his hands from the belt as he turned around, facing the man who had intruded on his moment. Their not-so-friendly banter before, during, and after shows had almost become a staple in his career. One he wished he didn't have to be apart of.

"John. So nice of you to drop by," Miz' features twisted up into a smirk, "but if you're lost, the mid-carder's locker room is _that_ way."

John pushed himself off the row of lockers he'd been leaning on, walking closer to where Mike was standing, "Ouch baby, that one stung. But I do love your new belt. They take the butterfly off before they gave it to you?"

Mike laughed at John's pathetic insult; like he hadn't heard that one his entire career. "Sounds to me like some jealousy Johnny. Where's your belt?" Mike said sarcastically, inwardly snickering at John's expression, "Oh yeah—you don't have one."

John smiled mockingly, brushing off that last insult, which honestly hurt his pride a bit, "Well at least I didn't make it to the top using only my mouth…unlike _some_ people…"

Mike chuckled, turning from John to his locker, already bored by John's school yard insults, "You wish John, maybe then I'd get with your sorry ass."

"Everyone wants some of this Michael…the sooner you realize that the better." John said arrogantly, slipping his bedazzled sunglasses over his eyes.

"Well sure," Mike said off-handily, un-wrapping his wrist tape, "that is until the outbreaks start a month later."

Mike smiled sweetly in victory, amused by John's lack of comeback, "Ha. I win, now go on out of here and find Sheamus or something; I'm sure he has to let you know how you're going to lose next week."

John ground his teeth in frustration, obviously wanting to shoot Miz a snarky remark but unable to.

"Byyyeee…" Mike purred, waving to John as he began his routine to leave for the night, taking his belt off and laying it carefully on the bench beside him.

Mike turned his back to John, assuming he'd just tucked tail and ran so he wouldn't look anymore like an idiot. As Mike began to change, a hand shot out in his line of vision, snatching up his new title, leaving Mike admiring thin air.

He whirled around, seeing John in front of him, holding the belt, smirk firmly in place, swinging it back in forth like a small child who had just stolen another's favorite toy.

"Give it back," Mike said, instantly sick of Morrison and his games. "Just…give it back, John."

"Ya know, everyone's been talking Mikey." John said quietly, almost to himself, as he eyed the belt swinging back and forth like a pendulum. "Everyone's been talking about you…about how you finally got what you deserve. How you went from reality star to the face of the company…"

Mike eyed John warily, wondering what his point in all of this was. To be a bully? That wasn't too uncharacteristic.

"Everyone thinks that you've finally earned it; that you were so good that it'd be almost criminal not to give you the title. Wanna know what I think Miz?"

Mike stared at John, waiting for the insult that was sure to come; he knew John all to well at this point.

"I think it's a joke. You are _nothing_, Mike. That's all you'll ever be." John walked towards Miz, "_Nothing_."

John loosened his grip, allowing the championship to fall from his fingers and hit the tile with a resounding 'bang'.

Mike broke the gaze between them first, reaching down to pick up his belt, features set firmly into an offended scowl as he dusted invisible dirt off his pristine title.

He quietly appraised John, eyes trailing down the handsome face contorted in a scowl. "What happened to you John? You've just become…this…sad person. You're so pathetic."

He stared at John once more before scoffing, abandoning the locker room altogether, leaving John in the middle of the room, disgusted.

* * *

"You're…dumb. What is _wrong_ with you?"

John turned to face Randy, narrowing his eyes at his friend who was reclining back on his couch, picture of total ease.

"You are not helping. How is that helping anyone?"

Randy threw up his hands, "What would you like me to say John? 'No, calling him a chick wasn't stupid at all, you're entirely intelligent for insulting the man you love.'"

John glared at Randy, showing he wasn't in the mood to be teased by the Viper. "Okay fine. Want some advice? I'll give you some. Don't be a dumbass. That's great advice." Randy chuckled at John's expression, "I'm sorry but you are! What in God's name could possible lead you to believe that being an asshole would get Mike to fall in love with you?"

John crossed his arms over his chest, pouting, moving to sit next to Randy, "Well it worked for you…"

Randy laughed, clapping John on the back as an attempt to raise his spirits a bit, "That's different. I'm an asshole to everyone; Cena just doesn't mind all the bullshit. Plus I never called him a whore."

John scrubbed a hand across his face, his words to Mike from earlier bouncing around in his head. So maybe he'd been an idiot. Thinking the old school yard saying that 'he only picks on you because he likes you' was definitely the wrong way to go…but after almost two years of the back and forth between them, John honestly didn't know if he could go about this reasonably. Once he knew he had feelings for Mike, he was already in too deep. "Fine. I'm a dumbass. Now what?"

Randy sighed, bringing his fingers to his lips in thought, "Well you could do one of two things: run to his hotel room right now, apologize, call yourself an idiot, and hope he's not in the middle of fucking Riley…"

John winced at that last part; he never did like how close he would get to Mike. "Or?"

"Or…you could just…continue being an asshole."

John looked up to Randy in shock, "You're not helping anymore. How would that end well?"

Randy shrugged, "Like you said, worked for me…"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n from Jessica: Ya know I'm pretty proud of the fact that I've updated this so quickly. AND I actually had fun while writing! Shocking I know. Kirbey told me she almost cried when I said I normally don't have fun while writing, just afterwards. The chick's got issues…anyway REVIEW!**

**Warning: Nothing really here either, just some cussing and trash talking**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone**

**

* * *

**John muttered quietly to himself as he continued pacing across his hotel room, Randy's words from earlier ringing around in his head. Maybe all these years of John and Mike verbally abusing each other could work in his favor…maybe if he played his cards right, he could slowly _transition_ into being nice…maybe eventually he and Mike wouldn't even need to fight like that at all.

John ran his fingers threw his hair, a headache forming from all this stress. Why did he even have to start this whole thing in the first place? He and Mike had been friends—during the days of Mizfits and Mofos, they went everywhere together, practically joined at the hip.

But stupid fights over jealousy and power got in the way once they got drafted, John not even speaking to Miz again until their feud. John regretted all of it—the rude comments about Miz' weight…insulting him that many times on national television made him feel like shit. But before he could even find a chance to apologize, Mike confronted him backstage, calling him just about every name you could think of in response to John's improving insult-wise. And keeping his pride, John shot nasty remarks right back at him, effectively ruining any chance he may have had of being forgiven. And as they say, the rest was history.

John plopped down on his bed, feeling sorry for himself. It seemed there wasn't really a choice anyway…after almost two years of petty bickering, of both sides calling the other names, rehashing the past, crossing the line…there was no way Mike would ever forgive him. And honestly, Randy's idea was out of the question…how was he supposed to continue being an asshole to someone he loves?

He was ripped from his pity party as his phone loudly blasted next to him, ripping him from his reverie. John looked down at his cell, seeing Randy's name flashing across the screen. Sighing, John let it go to voicemail…he wasn't up for Randy's bullshit right now.

About a half a second later, his phone rang again, One Republic's 'Everybody Loves Me' (ironic, no?) blaring from his cell as Randy's name once again flickered across the display.

Growling to himself, John answered the phone, an aggravated 'what?' leaving his lips automatically.

"_God, John…someone's in a bad mood…"_ Randy's voice echoed in his ear.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock. What do you want?"

"_Hmm…you'd think that since I just solved all of your problems, being the amazing person I am, you'd be a bit nicer to your best friend…"_

John perked up a bit at that, begrudgingly taking the bait, "Fine. I'll bite, what is it Randy?"

"_Well…I have just found out something that might help you out with your relationship, or lack thereof, with Mizanin."_

"Which would be…?" John asked annoyed, sometimes there was no winning with Randy.

"_It seems that my original prediction was correct…little A-Ri seems to be moving in on your man."_

"What?" John shouted, causing Randy to pull his phone from his ear on the other end, "that little fucker!"

"_Ease up man…calm down. I told you already, Uncle Randy has the solution to your problems."_

"Well get it on with it then…I'm about to tear my fucking hair out…or kick that midget's ass, whichever comes first."

"_Fine, fine. So here's how my genius idea from earlier comes into play…you continue being a dick, and Mike's all yours!"_

John sighed, rubbing his temples which felt as though they might explode any minute, "Randy I've been over this a million times in my head, there's no way I can continue being an asshole to Mike…I love him Randy, I just can't…I can't do it."

"_Oh would you grow a set and listen to me?" _Randy barked into the phone, _"Riley's running around Mike like a little puppy dog, following him everywhere, giving him flowers, buying him stuff…it's disgusting."_

"And?"

"_And…he's totally being a bitch about it…all 'Mike we should be together I think I have feelings for you' blah blah blah, exactly what _you_ were about to do until _I_ stepped in! Anyway, my point is: who wants that? What person—who isn't a girl—wants to be fawned over like that? So…continue being an asshole, and Mike will realize he doesn't want some little bitch, he wants someone who'll act like a man, aka _you!_"_

"That's actually…smart. That's a really good idea Randy."

"_Of course it is! I did come up with, right? Now, quit moping like a bitch and go out there and be an asshole to the man you love!"_

John laughed at Randy's enthusiasm, "Will do. Text ya' later."

"_Later man."_

John jumped up, ready to put Randy's plan in motion.

This might actually work.

* * *

Miz sighed again, trying to give the man next to him a subtle hint.

"So Mike, I was wondering, you want to go to out tonight? Maybe to the bar down the street?"

Mike inwardly growled, wishing he could just break the kid's heart so he'd leave him alone. "Umm…tonight? Gee, I don't know Ri…I have to go do this…thing." He finished lamely, hating the disappointed look that crossed Alex's face.

"Oh…well are you sure? I mean, everyone'll be there." God, he looked so hopeful, who was he to crush poor Alex's heart?

"I, umm…ok I'll go."

The look of pure happiness on Alex's face was almost too much…he was like a little puppy…and he couldn't stand it! God, he was an awful person. Here he was, being showered with gifts, attention, sweet words by Alex, and all he wanted to do was tell him to fuck off. Maybe it was him, but Mike _really_ couldn't stand him.

"Ok, I'll see you there," Alex said, leaning over briefly to give Mike a quick one-armed hug.

"Yeah…bye," Mike said, practically freezing where he stood with discomfort. But of course, the little puppy named Riley didn't notice.

"See ya then!"

Mike sighed to himself once again, plopping down in one of the many arena seats he and Riley had been talking near. This was his favorite part of the shows, of all the traveling…not the cheers and boos of the crowd, not the live action, or even the actual _wrestling_. His favorite part of the entire night was this quiet in between time, before the show actually started, when you could just relax and watch your coworkers practice in the ring. Everything quiet except for the muted voices coming from the guys who were sitting ringside, discussing the fight in front of them, some jokingly calling the 'match' like Cole and King would…nothing better than that.

A particularly loud slap to the mat caused Mike to look up, eyes locking from across the arena with John Morrison, bright blue eyes widening in recognition before narrowing.

Mike rolled his eyes, absentmindedly picking at his frayed jeans, as thoughts of those same bright eyes came to his mind, not angry-looking, but brightening with laughter at some random joke, a few tears even forming in the corners from the sheer hilarity alone.

It was times like these, when Mike could just sit and reminisce, that John came to his thoughts. Even after all they'd been through, sometimes Mike really regretted the words that were said between them…all of the hurtful names he'd called John.

Times like these, he really wished he could take back everything that happened. He wished that he and John could be like they used to…closer than brothers, attached at the hip, never leaving the other's side…

Mike sighed. He wished they could just be together again…he missed his friend.

"Sup' Mizanin."

Mike looked up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as Randy sat next to him, interrupting his private moment.

"Randy? What are you doing here?"

Randy shrugged, leaning further back in his seat, "I don't know…mingling? I'm trying to not be as much of a prick to people."

Mike smiled at that, matching Randy's posture as he leaned into his seat as well, both sets of eyes locked on the match taking place in front of them.

"So…I saw that little Alex has the hots for ya."

"Yeah, I guess…I don't have the heart to tell the kid I couldn't care less."

Randy nodded, eyes twinkling with a hidden agenda as he stored that information for later. "Well I'm sure someone catches your eye, right? I mean, there's plenty of single guys running around the locker room."

"Yeah I guess, I haven't really noticed though." Randy watched as Mike's eyes drifted from his lap to the ring, the stunning blues locking to his buddy celebrating his win over Ryder.

"Well I bet you're interested in someone, right?" Randy fished, noticing Mike's small smile as John rubbed his win in Zack's face. "Maybe on Smackdown…or here on Raw…"

Mike caught himself staring, snatching his gaze away from his former friend and back to Randy, "I don't know…like I said I haven't really noticed anyone."

Randy smirked to himself, able to see the feelings blatantly running across Mike's face, even if he himself couldn't. "I'll bet."

"Yeah well, no time for dates man, got this new championship to defend and all…got to worry about that ya' know."

Randy smiled, throwing Mike a bone and allowing him to change the subject, "Oh whatever. You know I'll be taking back the title in our match…that belt is as good as mine."

"Suuuure Randy, course it is…now if you'll excuse me. Big match to prepare for later, ya' know being the champion and all."

"Yeah yeah. I'll see ya later Mizanin, I have to whip your ass in a promo later. But I'll see ya after the show? I overheard you and Riley saying you'd be there."

Mike frowned, thoughts of having to endure Alex's thousand watt smiles all night ruining his good mood, "Oh. Right. You gonna' be there?"

"Mmm-hmm. I'll be there...Cena'll be there…Wade, Punk, and…John too."

Mike swallowed, dropping his gaze to the floor, toeing the cement there, "Oh?"

"Yup. Talked to him earlier. I'll make sure he stays out of your way though. You guys hate each other right?"

Mike nodded quickly, attempting to cover up the small amount of disappointment he felt, "Yeah, yeah…we hate each other."

"Kay. Well I'll see ya later man," Randy said, giving Miz a chance to dismiss himself.

"Right. Bye." Mike took off, already realizing his pre-match time had diminished significantly.

Randy scooted back in his seat, propping his feet on the chair in front of him, giving a thumbs up to John watching from the ring.

This was almost _too_ easy.

* * *

**A/n from Jessica: Since I didn't say earlier: this story is completely and whole-heartedly dedicated to my best friend and other half of our writing team, Kirbey!**

**I'm still convinced that Matt loves you buddy. So chin up bruh, and remember you're miz, he's john and I KNOW that he looooooves you! :))))**

_A/n from Kirbey: omg Jessica! I can't believe you wrote a story based off my life, it's hilarious! I love it though…_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n from Jessica: No joke, I wrote ch. 2 and 3 all in one day. I feel pretty beastly if I do say so myself. Enjoy!**

**Warning: Still nothing worth mentioning, violence and cussing I guess…**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone**

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* * *

**Mike rubbed his temples, attempting to alleviate the pressure threatening to morph into a full on migraine.

"…And anyway, I listened to that new album you've been talking about so much lately. What was that one song called you liked? Uhh…"

"Nightmare," Mike growled, still rubbing his temples. Irony was a bitch, huh?

"Yeah! That was it. Great Song…" Alex said smiling, taking another sip of his beer, quietly picking at the label, feeling awkward at Miz' lack of response.

Mike sighed, downing another shot, hoping if he was smashed he wouldn't need to keep up this charade that he actually enjoying the night.

The night had been miserable. Mike had been forced to make pleasant small talk with Alex the whole time—a difficult task when he dominated the conversation more than Miz himself…he couldn't even tear himself away to mingle with a few of his friends, much as he wish he could.

Mike was sure that if he had to endure anymore he would throw common politeness out the window and tell Riley to fuck off.

"You want another drink?" Alex asked, big eyes wide. Good God, the puppy face was back.

"No…no Alex I'm fine." Miz sighed, drumming his fingers across the table in front of him, wondering which would kill him first: boredom or annoyance.

"Ahh…Mikey, thought I'd see you here. You should lay off the Jack though…way too many calories…and we _all_ know you don't need anymore of those."

Finally, some form of entertainment.

Mike spun around in his seat, coming face to face with John Morrison. Damn, he could clean up nice. "John. I was wondering when you'd make your rounds for the night…but sorry, the answer's still 'hell no'."

John smirked, pulling up a chair across from Miz and Alex, making himself comfortable. "You wish pretty thing, but I already have my eyes set on someone."

Mike missed the way John's eyes drifted up and down his body, sad, almost wistful eyes hidden behind his signature shades. "I'm sure. And I'll bet they'll be gone for the next two months to 'take care' of a little problem."

Mike laughed at John's confused expression, "I'm calling you a dirty slut, John."

"Oh! Well whatever…you still wish you could hit this. So how's your night been so far Mizzy? You and A-Ri here been enjoying yourselves?"

"Well actually,"— Miz began, being cut off by Alex.

"Yes we have. Until you showed up that is." Alex growled at John, a protective arm snaking around Mike's shoulders, oblivious at the uneasiness it caused.

John's eyebrows rose, shocked at the blatant way Riley marked his territory. From the information Randy gave him, Mike didn't exactly return the feelings.

"Well I just ruin everything don't I?" John muttered, stealing one of Mike's shots, hating that those words really rang true for him.

"Oh buck up John," Mike said, moving his shots from in front of John so he couldn't Bogart anymore. "You may ruin everything you touch, but at least you still have a good personal life—oh wait, no you don't…well, at least you have a good professional life, oh wait, you lose constantly, you don't have one of those either. Never mind then…" Miz smirked, marking John's silence as a win.

"Well…I may not win all my matches, but at least I don't need Cole verbally blowing me to get me over."

Mike laughed at that comment, willing to give credit where it was due, "All right, touché."

"Oh yeah! I win!" John yelled, stealing back a shot and downing it, ignoring the way Riley's eyes narrowed at their little back-and-forth.

"Mike why do you let this guy treat you like this?" Alex said, butting in and attempting to steer Mike's attention back to him.

"Butt out Riley…Mizzy and I have been doing this for years, while you were still stuck in FCW learning how to back drop."

"Well excuse me for thinking that friends shouldn't mock each other," Alex shot back, arm tightening around Mike's shoulders.

"We're not friends." Both John and Mike said at the same time. Both oblivious to the sadness the words caused the other.

"Well maybe you should just leave then!" Alex growled, rising to his feet as if he were about to forcibly remove John from their table.

"Maybe you should make me, bitch," John retorted, rising to his feet himself.

"Whoa…okay, calm down you guys," Miz stood putting his hands up, attempting to calm down the two before this escalated further.

"No Mike, someone needs to show this asshole some manners, I'd be glad to do it myself." Alex pushed Mike out of the way, getting in John's face, protective feelings for Mike fueling him on.

"Bring it on, mother fucker; I'd love to see if you can actually fight your own battles without losing." John snatched off his sunglasses, tossing them aside, ignoring the possibility of them breaking as he focused on sating his frustration and anger over this whole thing with Mike via breaking Riley's face.

"Guys, No," Mike yelled from his spot behind Alex, "quit being dumbasses…you're gonna get thrown out."

"Sorry Mikey, you're little boyfriend needs to get his ass kicked," John growled, automatically becoming angrier at having to say the word.

"John wait"—

Too late.

John swung his fist, aiming for Riley's annoying little face, hoping to shatter his nose on impact. Alex's eyes widened, ducking out of the way before John's fist could connect with his face.

It'll happened as if in slow motion—as Alex moved out of the way, it left the person behind him left out in the open…leaving Mike to get punched in the face.

Whoops.

Mike staggered back, honestly surprised as John's fist struck underneath his eye, probably blackening it.

Alex rushed to his aide, seemingly restraining himself from lunging for Morrison's throat, Mike's well-being the forefront of his concerns at the moment. "What the fuck, asshole? Did you do that on purpose?"

"What?—no I…" Randy's words rang in his head, almost as if he were standing right next to him, _So…continue being an asshole, and Mike will realize he doesn't want some little bitch_…well, I guess this situation could work in his favor. "Yeah…yeah! Fuck right I did, got a problem A-Ri?"

Alex growled, practically seething, as he moved Mike to his seat, checking him over frantically for other injuries. "Mike you okay? I told you to make this dick leave."

Mike groaned, his face throbbing along with his reoccurring headache as he turned back to John. "You did that on purpose?"

John wiped off the remorse beginning to form, "Yup, maybe you should learn how to keep your mouth shut Mizzy, or take a hit, whichever comes first." John smirked, feeling almost nauseous at his words and the look on Mike's face.

"M-maybe we should leave, Ri…" Miz muttered, delicately running his fingers across the now prominent black eye he was sporting, "take me home?"

Alex nodded enthusiastically, leading Mike to their ride, but not before sending a dirty look across his shoulder to John.

John sat down at their table, gulping down their remaining shots, managing to feel like he ruined everything again.

* * *

"Well…this is definitely a first."

John sighed, right back where he started.

"Yeah, yeah Randy…get to the part where you tell me what to do."

"Hmm…" Randy scratched his chin, trying to think of another brilliant plan. "I—I uhh…I got nothing. Why in the hell did you punch him in the face? That's a level past asshole John…that's bordering into domestic violence!"

"It was an accident…but being dumb and listening to what you told me, I said it was on purpose. God, I should've never listened to you."

"Hey now, this stupidity is all on you, buddy."

"Uh-huh…Randy this is so awful. I can't stand this shit anymore. I think we should give up."

"No no no…" Randy said, sitting up. "You can't abandon ship now buddy, we just started! Listen just keep trying a little longer, he'll be with you soon, I'm positive."

"And how are you so sure?" John asked, sitting down next to Randy, looking around his room, missing the devious look that passed across Randy's face.

"Just trust me John, I'm sure."

* * *

Mike sighed, setting the ice pack down onto the couch next to him. Thankfully, he was able to shoo Alex away for the night, claiming he needed to catch up on his rest.

How in the hell had this happened? John actually _punched_ him in the face. He could soundly admit that they weren't friends or anything—much as he wished otherwise, but were they really that much of enemies? To be getting into fistfights with one another?

Mike's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Not expecting anyone, and hoping it wasn't Alex, he took a quick breath, opening the door, a smile instantly forming across his face.

"Mike, hey—…ooh fuck. What happened to you?"

"Nice to see you too Cena, please do come in."

John pushed passed Miz, heading over to the couch before plopping down, "Come on Mizzy bear; come tell Uncle Johnny what's wrong."

Mike sat down next to him, carefully touching his eye to test his pain level, "Please don't call yourself that again."

"Will do. Now what's up? How'd that happen?"

Mike described his night to John, who apparently had been missing due to being attached to Randy the whole night, leaving out no detail.

"I see…so our old pal Morri did this, huh?"

"Yup. I mean I know we fight all the time and everything, but fuck he didn't need to take a swing at me."

"Well you said he was arguing with Riley the entire time…maybe he swung at him and missed or something…"

Mike shook his head, "No because he gloated afterwards. Why would he say he did it on purpose if he didn't really?"

John shrugged, "I don't know…didn't your momma ever tell you boys are dumb Mizzy?"

Mike laughed, leaning back into his seat, missing the flicker of hidden knowledge in John's eyes. "Ahh there's a smile. Now, I wouldn't worry about it anymore, so quit your little angst fest, okay?"

Mike nodded, "All right, I will. Now let's talk about you…where have you mysteriously vanished to all night?

John chuckled, "I was with Randy,"—

"Upp…leave it at that John; I don't need any dirty details." Mike said, holding his hand up to stop him.

"Hey now…it's not what you think. We were just talking."

"Bout' what?" Mike asked.

"Just these crazy plans and shit he has…you know how retarded he is sometimes."

Mike laughed, Randy did act like that at times, "Plans? About what?"

"Hmm…" John said, tapping a finger to his chin. "I'm not sure if I should tell you, I think I'd get in trouble."

"Oh come on now," Mike said, pulling John's hand away from his face. "You can't dangle information in front of me and not tell. Tell!"

John sighed, rolling his eyes, "All right I'll tell you what we were talking about, but you're gonna get me in trouble…"

* * *

**A/n from Jessica: SWERVE! Aww snap son! What's gonna happen next? Well you're gonna have to wait to find out, cuz i wrote two chapters in one day and i'm totally wiped out.**

_A/n from K: I love this story so much! It's definately my #2 fave! (Oh and if Matt punches me I'll kick his ass...real talk.) _**lol! aww that made my day**

**Please review! lemme know your thoughts people!**

**ALSO: you guys need to go read kirbey's latest story...the punk/jeff one. and It's insane that no one's reviewing it. It made me laugh hysterically! I love her portrayal of Jeff hardy. Oh yeah and happy crystal meth day to all! Lollll! That's for you brucey! Anyway, yes. Go read it…found in our other stories…now go go! Read! And review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n from Jessica: Oh my f'ing God, I reallllyyy love this chapter. I have to say this might be the best yet. Bet lemme know your all's thoughts! Is this one your favorite? The first? The second? Third? Did you hate all of em'? Lemme know your thoughts, REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer: I own no one, none of these pretty-boy wrestlers belong to me. However, my portrayal of Alex riley being an annoying bitch and Randy Orton being a retard do! :P**

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"He did _what_?"

"Whoa, whoa…John calm down!" Randy put his hands on John's shoulders, attempting to prevent him from destroying his hotel room.

John's eyes flashed, moving until he was face to face with Randy, narrowing his eyes, "Randy I would not touch me right now if I were you."

Randy slowly took his hands off of John's shoulders, putting them up in defense, "Ok, ok. Calm down, man. Look, let me explain okay? Let me tell you what he said."

John huffed in defeat, sitting on his bed, motioning for Randy to continue.

"All right, so after I left here, I went back to me and John's room…" Randy began, hands still raised as if he thought John would attack him at any minute. "when I got there, he was all smiles and dimples, ya' know, like normal…but then he started in with the whole 'I know something you don't know' thing he does, and started teasing me and stuff"—

"Randy could you just get to the point please?" John said, interrupting him, the look on his face clearly saying he couldn't take anymore suspense.

"All right all right, so I kept asking what it was he was talking about, and all he'd say was that he had just come from Miz' room and had _told_ him something important." Randy backed away from John, fearing he'd lash out and shoot the messenger.

"That's all?" John raised his head, looking at Randy with expectant eyes, the picture of unease.

"That's all he would tell me. I tried man, I really did. But Cena told me if I kept bothering him about it, he'd withhold sex. And I love you man, but uhh…not that much."

John scoffed, shaking his head, "That's nice Randy. I'm really glad that the man I love hating me _more_ than he already did because of whatever _your _boyfriend told him isn't nearly as important than whether or not you get laid tonight."

"Hey now, it might be okay. I mean, neither of us knows what John told him. Maybe it had nothing to do with you." John looked at Randy, cocking his eyebrow, "Okay it probably had something to do with you…but you never know, maybe it wasn't bad. Maybe he told him about your stupid plan and everything's all better now."

John opened his mouth to say something, but closed again with a sigh, "You know what I'm not even going to yell at you, more than likely nothing I say'll reach your thick skull anyway."

Randy sat on the bed next to him, throwing an arm over John's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, "All right, I fucked up telling Cena everything we were doing…in retrospect that wasn't very smart. But don't go doing something stupid to try and fix it; that usually leads to badness."

"Then what should I do? Tell me what to do, despite the fact I should never listen to _anything_ you say…"

"Okay, first off: it was your stupid fault for getting into this mess, not mine. Second, if it were me, and thank God it isn't, but if it were me, I wouldn't do anything. We don't actually know if Miz knows anything about the plan or how you _love_ him. But in all honesty, he probably does. I mean, I wouldn't put it past Cena to tell him just to fuck with the two of us, but we don't know!"

Randy rubbed John's shoulder, attempting to calm him down before he started freaking out, "Calm down, it'll be okay. Just, like I said, don't do anything rash and fuck this situation up more."

Randy patted John's leg before rising, "Now if you excuse me, I'll leave you to your massive brood fest that's likely to happen any minute. Later."

"Bye," John said, watching Randy walk through the door, unable to help feeling a bit bitter at this whole fucked up situation.

* * *

After spending some time thinking in his hotel room—like Randy said he would, John had come to the conclusion that trying to fix anything would no doubt make matters worse. It did seem that throughout this whole mess, once he tried to change anything or make the situation better, something awful would happen, causing him to sink even lower in Mike's eyes.

John slammed his locker shut, using a bit more force than necessary.

Which was why he was going to do nothing; he was sticking to the script and going along with the original plan—much as he wished he could quit the whole charade. He was going to continue being the asshole he had built himself up to be, hoping that if he ignored the latest developments in the John/Mike saga, nothing bad would come of it.

"Looks like _someone's _upset," a voice sounded from behind him. "Smile Johnny, at least you have a match tonight."

John turned around, recognizing the voice instantly, coming face to face with Mike. "Sure do. What are you doing tonight Miz? Gonna' get put through a table to practice for Sunday?"

Mike smirked, his face not showing any other emotion, "…Oh shut up. Hey! I was wondering though, did that rash of yours clear up yet? I sure hope so."

"Oh I'm a whore, how original. Please do us all a favor and come up with new material Michael."

Mike shrugged, "Stop making it true, and I might stop saying it."

John sighed, locking eyes with Miz, silently challenging him. Was he not going to say anything at all? Make John wait and wait, worrying the entire time over what he knew or didn't know. Was dangling this in front of him better than just confronting him and letting John wallow in his embarrassment?

John rolled his eyes, bending down to get some wrist tape out of his bag—apparently that answer was yes.

John straightened up abruptly when a wolf whistle sounded behind him, wondering fleetingly if the pervs over on Smackdown had paid them a visit. He turned around, ready to quip some smart remark, stopping, mouth wide open when all his eyes were met with was Mike's smiling face.

"Sorry JoMo," Mike said, adjusting his clothes as he made his way over to his own locker, smiling wide, "but you got yourself some nice assets there."

John's eyes narrowed. That mother fucker.

What, did he think? That acting like he was attracted to John as well would be _funny_? That was taking it _way_ to far. It was one thing to call him a whore, one thing to keep up this back and forth between them, but completely another to throw his feelings back in his face like that. That was crossing the line.

"Fuck you," John mumbled under his breath, directing all the anger he could manage at the moment to the man across the room.

Mike slammed his locker shut, lips barely moving as John could make out what sounded like, "…still thinking about it…"

* * *

Randy braced himself against the door of the locker room he and Cena were sharing, leaning back to look up and down the hallway for any of their coworkers. Randy waved his hand quickly, finding that the coast was clear.

Cena came from behind him, walking through the door with little fanfare, "Dear God, Randy. Just come on."

Randy rolled his eyes, shutting the door and locking it behind him. "Do you always have to ruin my fun?"

"When you're acting retarded? Yes, I do. Now come on, let's get it on with this."

John plopped on the couch in the center of their spacious dressing room, silently waving Randy to go on with the information he'd been so eager to share with him.

"Okay. So here's what I've got so far," Randy said, dropping his voice to a whisper just in case anyone was listening in. "John's about ready to slit his wrists if this shit doesn't end soon. He's bein' all emo and sad, thinking that you told Mizanin like, all of his secrets and shit and completely blew his cover on this whole thing."

John laughed, shaking his head, wondering why their friends had to be so dramatic, "Poor John. But Mike's pretty much the same. He's all up in arms about why John would act the way he did, hitting him and all, and is having this whole silent debate about his conflicting feelings for him. He didn't tell me that part, but I mean, it's pretty obvious."

Randy nodded, agreeing with John. Okay, so it might be a little fucked up to completely butt into their friends' love lives, but if they were both going to be stupid about the whole thing, then maybe they needed to be pushed in the right direction.

Randy sat down next to his boyfriend, wrapping his arm around him, "Do you feel bad for getting involved like this?"

John thought about it for a moment, "Not really. Those two deserve to be together. It's not fair that stupid circumstances and their own dumbass actions are preventing it. Do you feel bad for making JoMo worry for no reason?"

Randy smiled evilly, "Now I do feel a little bad for that. He was really freaking the fuck out."

"What did you tell him I said?"

Randy sighed, examining his fingernails, "Just that you more than likely told Miz everything, _including_ that he wants Mike to fuck him."

John shook his head, "That's evil. I mean, really. How has he not freaked out yet? Poor guy," John slapped Randy's thigh, "Now, tell me this latest diabolic plan of yours."

* * *

Mike pushed past the curtain, boos echoing from behind him, happy that he'd been successful in building the pay per view. Clutching his title that was safely placed on his shoulder, Mike walked through the hallway, nodding and handing out greetings to a few of his coworkers as he passed.

If the new developments on Raw were any indication, it seemed as if he and John were going to be spending much more time together. Mike sighed as he opened his locker room, hoping no one else would be in there. Having to be apart of another feud with John definitely wouldn't help him clear out his head and sort through all of these thoughts he'd been having, and it definitely wouldn't make their relationship (or whatever they had) run any smoother.

Mike turned to shut the door behind him, nearly shutting it in the face of an out of breath Alex Riley.

"Mike! Hey, I was trying to catch up with you…how are you doing? We haven't really spoken since your hotel room."

Mike turned to his locker, inwardly groaning. Thankfully when they were out in the ring, in front of thousands of people, and even more watching at home, he could put on his heel face and not say a word to Riley unless the script called for it. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do once they were backstage.

"Yeah, well I was…busy. New champ and all—gotta make appearances and everything."

Alex nodded, eagerly sporting the puppy dog face, "How's your eye though? Are you feeling any better?"

Mike nodded, turning to face Alex, "Yeah its fine. Don't worry about it."

Alex smiled, walking over to his own locker to change for the night, "That's great. I swear, if you hadn't needed to leave, I would have kicked that bitch's ass."

Mike's eyes narrowed, odd feelings of protectiveness swarming through him. "Don't call him that."

Alex looked at Mike, confused, "Come on Mike, I know the two of you have that thing with each other, but get real, he's a total asshole." Alex turned back to face his locker, figuring Mike's silence had meant he agreed with him.

Mike slammed his locker shut, quickly getting dressed, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. Why should he care if Alex called John names? Hell, he did it himself each time they saw each other!

And yet, he couldn't help but feel the strong urge to kick the shit out of Riley. To scream at him that John was twice the man he'd ever hope to be. That he'd never measure up to him. That he could only ever wish to be what John was in Mike's eyes.

Annoyed and fuming, Mike walked over to Alex, snatching his chin upwards, forcing Alex to stare in his eyes.

"Listen Alex, we need to talk about a few things"—

Mike cut himself off as none other than John Morrison walked through the door at that moment, silently walking to the farthest corner from Mike he could, muttering only a defense of "I forgot my stuff."

Mike shut his mouth, letting go of Alex's chin as if he burned him, wondering what that could have looked like to John.

Alex motioned for him to keep going, narrowing his eyes as he locked eyes with John before he dropped them to the floor.

"Umm…well what I was saying was…" Mike had a hard enough time trying to vocalize his fucked up feelings for John, much less when he was in the room with him.

"It's okay Mike, I understand," Alex said, holding his hand up to stop him, "I know what you're trying to say. And my answer is yes."

Mike's eyebrows furrowed, confusion written across his face, "What do you mean?"

Alex looked behind Mike's shoulder at John angrily stuffing clothes into his bag, "it's okay Mike. You can say it even with _him_ here. I'd love to go out with you again."

Mike's eyes widened, "What? I wasn't"—

Alex shh'd him, putting his fingers to his lips, "Like I said, it's okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Mike stood dumbfounded as Alex stood, grabbing his bag, offering a smile over his shoulder as he left.

Mike sat down on the bench in the center of the room, mouth agape, noting that he could still faintly hear the sounds of John angrily packing.

Well this certainly fucked things up a lot more.

* * *

_Five Minutes Earlier…_

John quickly walked through the hallways, hoping the sooner he left the arena, the sooner he could be in his hotel room, moping with his head under the covers.

He'd just been informed via anonymous general manager (great way to inform talent of actual company mandates, by the way) that he'd be competing for the new number one contendership at the pay per view. This meant that since he was winning, (and he was sure as hell winning) he'd be feuding with Mike once again, which did not look well for him. Another feud meant more unoriginal 'husky' comments which, while he'd seem very much like an asshole to Miz, would cause him to feel even more like a piece of shit than he already did.

John approached the door of the superstar's locker room, stopping and listening when he heard the familiar voice of Mike's apprentice, Riley.

"…_I know the two of you have that thing with each other, but get real, he's a total asshole…"_

John growled to himself, wanting to slam the door open and shut the bitch up once and for all, but unable to stop himself from listening in.

"_Listen Alex, we need to talk about a few things…"_

Fuck it, John thought pushing the door open, maybe he would shut him up tonight, like he'd been wanting to since he met him.

John froze by the door, eyes widening, as Mike and Alex glanced up at him, both huddled close together, Alex's chin being caressed by Mike.

John ducked his gaze to the floor, quickly walking to his side of the room, muttering the lame excuse of forgetting his stuff as to why he had intruded on their moment.

John leaned against his locker, slowly turning the dial, fleetingly looking over to Mike and Alex, eyes dropping back to the ground as Alex narrowed his at John.

"Umm_…_well what I was saying was…"

John opened his locker, focusing himself on gathering his things, trying desperately to prevent himself from listening to Mike.

"It's okay Mike, I understand," Alex said, "I know what you're trying to say. And my answer is yes."

John gasped as quietly as he could, jealousy and anger coursing through his veins like fire. How dare he? How dare he _ask out_ Riley, with him standing right there! Did his feelings mean nothing? Was there nothing that wasn't sacred to him? What next, was he going to mount Riley on the announce table during his next match? Would the joke still be funny then?

John seethed, trying to refrain from drawing attention to himself. The only sound he could make out was his blood pulsing through his ears, missing Mike's question to Alex.

John grabbed his clothes and tights from his locker, slamming them into his duffel, unable to avoid listening in, despite the jabs to his heart the conversation provided.

"It's okay Mike. You can say it even with _him_ here. I'd love to go out with you again."

That mother fucker. How dare him.

"What? I wasn't"—

"Like I said, it's okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

John zipped his bag close, silently reprimanding himself for feeling the overwhelming need to start crying. He wasn't going to let Mike have the satisfaction.

So this was his payback? Was what he did really so wrong? Did he really deserve this? To have his heart splinter into a million pieces all because he wanted Mike to return his feelings for him.

John wiped his eyes with his hands, proud of himself to find no tears.

He looked up at Mike, finding him sitting in the middle of the room, shock written across his face.

He was sick of playing this game. He was tired and stressed out, and his chest felt as though it may cave in at any moment. Why couldn't Mike just say it? Just put him out of his misery and rub John's feelings in his face like he knew he wanted to. Why couldn't he just say it?

John sighed before dropping his bag to the floor, breaking Mike from his reverie, causing him to look up at John.

"Just fucking say it Mike."

* * *

**A/n from Jessica: Again with the swerves! I swear to god, I was talking to kirbey and realized this story had more layers to it than a TNA storyline…ha. **

**Anyway, yes review and lemme know your thoughts…I need more opinions than kirbey laughing when John is called a whore.**

**And PS- go read Kirbey's story! The jeff/punk one! And review it! She's all depressed and junk (ha, pun) because no one reviews hers/reads it…I swear it's totally funny. If you like sadistic/masochistic type humor that is. And if you don't, why are you reading our stories? Haven't you noticed a pattern here? Lol jk…**

**Sorry im rambling, but what can I say? I've recently become crippled and am bored as hell. **

**Review! :)))**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n from Jessica: To make everything clear, because frankly I was worried some people might be confused, John isn't aware that Mike returns his feelings for him. Mike isn't aware that John likes him, he thinks that John completely hates him due to the mean stuff they've done to each other. And yes they are all stupid for thinking these things. :)**

**Review!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone!**

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Mike's eyes widened at the whispered command from the man across the room. Did he—? No, there was no way John could know about the feelings coursing through him…about the way his breath hitched whenever their eyes locked.

Mike opened his mouth to speak, closing it when he couldn't find the words to say. There was no way he could know his feelings, but the way John was looking at him, the sad, almost defeated look on his face made Mike feel as if John could see right through him.

"Please Mike; I'm sick of this shit. We both know you want to. Just say it." John muttered the confession under his breath, his mouth turning down into a frown, face looking completely exhausted.

Mike felt the overwhelming urge to run across the room and throw John into his arms, comforting him like he did when he was as heartbroken as he looked now—a time that seemed like ages ago to him.

"John, I don't know what to say. I…" Mike drifted off, unsure how to phrase the words he was dying to say. "I—"

They both turned, gazes breaking as Cena boisterously entered the room, seemingly unaware that he had intruded on a very important moment. "Mikey! There you are. Come on buddy, we need to leave already."

Mike sighed as he rose from his seat, annoyed and at the same time relieved that John had interrupted before he got the chance to reveal his feelings to Morrison. He shot John an apologetic look across his shoulder as he left, hating the look of disappointment that crossed John's face.

John ran his hands across his face, taking a deep breath through his nose as he bent to pick up his bag.

He must have been a real glutton for punishment, actually feeling disappointed when Cena came barging through the room, effectively putting an end to whatever Mike was about to say. What, did he think that as soon as the words left Mike's mouth everything would be fine? That finally putting everything out there in the open would end everything between them, good and bad? Why was he so eager to hear something that he was positive would break his heart the second he did?

John sighed at he left the locker room, making his way through the hallway to the parking lot. This shit was really getting to him. He was exhausted, completely stressed out, and it was starting to affect his work. John winced as he recalled the sloppy punches he'd thrown at Sheamus earlier, accidentally connecting with a few. This needed to stop, one way or another someone had to come clean and put everything out in the open, had to say what they both new needed to be said.

John's face fell at the thought, knowing that either way, neither side could possibly win.

* * *

"Hey what's up bud? You're awfully quiet."

Mike looked up from his lap into the concerned eyes of his closest friend. "Nothing man, just thinking about some stuff. Don't worry about it."

John shook his head; muting the TV they had been watching, he moved closer to Mike, giving his undivided attention. "No way, something's up. Now go ahead, spill."

Mike picked at the frayed denim of his jeans, a nervous habit of his, avoiding John's unwavering gaze. "Okay. I think—well, I like John. And I don't know what to do."

John's eyes scrunched together in confusion, his hand moving up to scratch his head, "Well, uhh…Mike I'm very flattered, but I mean, you know I'm with Randy—"

"Not you dumbass," Mike groaned, throwing his pillow at John's face.

"I'm kidding, calm down." John said, holding his hands up in defense. "It's okay. So this is good. You've admitted your feelings. Granted, it's to the wrong John, but at least it's a step in the right direction."

Mike looked up at John in confusion, "What do you mean? Did you already know that I…"

John silenced Mike with a knowing look, "Of course I knew. I knew before you did, Mikey. It was pretty obvious. I've never seen you think this hard about something as long as I've known you."

Mike's eyes widened, "Wait if _you_ knew, then what if—oh no, John. He can't know! He frickin hates me."

John shushed him, "Don't worry, I only know because I'm a complete genius and your best friend. You have nothing to worry about."

"But John, he hates me," Mike said, eyes showing the frustration he felt, "there's no way anything can come from this."

"Why would he hate you? I mean, sure you're a dick sometimes, and you're pretty annoying, and you don't really know when to shut up, and you're really arrogant and that can old real quick…" John trailed off at the pissed look on Mike's face, "But I mean, hey I like you. Randy likes you. You do have some friends in the locker room, maybe he's one of them."

Mike shook his head, quick to shoot that thought down, "I don't think so John. He fuckin hates me. We haven't been friends in a while, much less anything more."

"Well you never know Mikey," Cena said, turning up the volume to the TV, basically ending the conversation there, "you never know until you do something about it."

* * *

Randy looked from over his sunglasses at his friend, said man slumped against the door of their rental, looking completely worn out.

"John? You been getting sleep man? You look like shit."

John's eyes stayed close, the only response from him a small scoff. "Thanks Randy, that's just what I love hearing."

"I'm sorry man, but I have to say, I'm concerned. I know, shocking right?" Randy continued on, basically talking to himself as John was showing no indication of his listening. "But this really needs to stop, ya know? I mean someone's gonna get hurt in that ring if you don't snap out of it."

"So glad you're," John raised his hands to form air quotes, "_concerned_. But I'm fine. You've helped plenty Randy, just drive and leave me alone."

Randy's eyes narrowed, grip tightening on the wheel. So that's what he got for trying to help, huh? "Fine John, fuck you man. That's the last time I try to help you."

Randy drove in silence, wiping his eyes as he continued to stare at the highway in front of him. They were supposed to be heading to…Randy narrowed his eyes in thought; dammit he should know this shouldn't he? John was really the navigator of the two; he just drove until someone pointed out an exit.

"John, hey," Randy nudged his friend. "Which exit do we get off of? John?"

Randy rolled his eyes, but let his friend sleep, glad that he had finally managed to squeeze in a power nap. Now he just needed to know where the hell he was going. He pulled over to the shoulder, pulling out his cell as he typed in the number he knew so well.

"_Helllloooo?"_

Randy smirked at his goofy lover, "Hey babe, you know where we're going?"

John sighed from the other end, _"Dammit Randy, I've told you a million times to get a GPS. I can't be directing your ass for the rest of our careers."_

Randy muttered under his breath, ignoring John's speech, "Yeah yeah, just tell me which exit."

John gave him directions, being sure to specify everything for his thick-headed boyfriend, "_Now can you follow those? Or do I need to tell you what the word 'merge' means?"_

Randy tsk'd at him, "That's not very nice, John-John…I think you hurt my feelings. Now, since JoMo's asleep and this is probably the only chance I'll be able to say this, how're things going?"

"_Umm…I can't really talk about that right now Randy, if you know what I'm talking about."_

"Mike in the car with you?"

"_Yup. But, do you still wanna go ahead with this idea of yours? Ya know, the…uhh…kidnapping one? What? No, don't worry about it Mike, just to spice our love life up a bit."_

Randy smiled, hearing the exaggerated gagging sounds Mike was making through the phone. "All set. Like I said, Morrison's knocked out. He won't realize where we're going until we're at his hotel room."

"_Check. Okay I'd better go, Mikey's complaining that his life is in my hands and I'm being irresponsible." _

"All right, see you in," Randy checked the napkin he wrote John's directions on, "New York? Huh…you'd think I'd remember that."

"_Dumbass…love you."_

"Love you." Randy hung up the phone with his boyfriend, looking over at John, still sound asleep against the window.

Randy smirked as he pulled back onto the freeway, glancing down at his directions, next stop, NYC…

…and the next phase of his brilliant plan.

* * *

John slowly opened his eyes, surprised to find he'd actually drifted off to sleep for a few minutes.

"Goooood morning sleepy," John winced as Randy's voice disrupted the peaceful quiet.

"How long have I been out?" John sat up, looking out the windshield in an attempt to try to recognize his whereabouts.

"Uhh…about two hours? More or less. We're almost to the hotel now."

John stretched, wincing as his back popped, "Hey I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. That wasn't very cool."

Randy shook his head, "Nah it was my fault, I was being a dick. But don't worry about it all right?"

The two of them sat in comfortable silence, taking in the sights through the window as they approached their hotel.

"Thought we were staying at a different one?" John asked, eyebrows pulling together in uncertainty.

"Uhh yeah, well I called ahead and got us booked here. Better hotel, you know."

John looked at his friend, curious as to why Randy was entirely _too_ focused on the road and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Randy?"

"Mmm-hmm?" Randy checked his mirrors as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel.

Yep something was wrong here.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Don't know what you mean buddy. Now grab your bags and follow me."

Randy got out of the car, practically running into the hotel, John slowly trailing behind, suspicious. They approached the front desk, Randy immediately moving to speak to the girl behind the desk and get their room situated.

"Ready to go?"

John nodded, still wary of why Randy was acting so strange, but following behind him as they climbed the steps to their room nonetheless.

"Hey mind if we stop at Cena's room real quick?" Randy asked as he stopped in front of room 371, "Just real quick?"

Randy stood behind John, waving him ahead to knock on the door. John knocked, eyes widening in surprise as Mike opened the door, equally as stunned.

"John what are you?—"

Mike was cut off as Randy shoved John hard, pushing him into Mike and sending the two tumbling into Mike's room.

"I'm sorry guys, but you leave me no choice." Randy shut the door abruptly, leaving the two glaring from the floor, gazes practically burning a hole through the door.

"Randy!" John got to his feet and trying to open the door, with no such luck. "What the fuck did you do? Open the door!"

"_Sorry man," _Randy's muffled voice came from behind the door, _"this is the only way you two'll talk to each other."_

Mike joined him, banging on the door to his hotel room, "Dammit Randy, this is _my_ room. Now move the hell out of the way and open the door."

"_Sorry Mikey," _That was Cena's voice now, _"it's hard enough as it is for you two to speak to each other, so we're…uhh…kinda forcing you to!"_

"John I will kill you!" Mike screamed, pulling the door handle, still not getting it to budge, "Open the God damn door!"

"_No way," _Randy yelled, _"I've worked too hard to make this happen, and you two aren't ruining it. Now talk dammit!"_

Mike growled, backing away from the door after kicking it once really hard, probably breaking his foot. He looked over to John, now standing in the middle of the room, and back to the door, hoping in vain that if he willed it enough the door might magically pop open so he could run away from this awful situation.

Mike looked back at John, sighing. It didn't seem like they'd be able to leave anytime soon.

* * *

**A/n from Jessica: LE SWERVE! AGAIN! :O well it's officially christmas eve and i am totally sleepy...not a good way to spend the holidays may i add. sleepy, not writing. i like doing that :) anyway, so yeah stay tuned for updates, and feel free to make predictions although i think everythings pretty obvious now. OH! and who's happy that miz and mo will be feuding now? im totally freakin out, but john better watch who he calls husky...all im saying...**

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**

**...and of course don't forget to review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/n from Jessica: Whelp we've almost reached our ending with this lovely story o'mine. Hopefully you've enjoyed it as much as I have!**

**Warning: Hellz yes son, pretty images full of slash and smut have ARRIVED!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone!**

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John growled, eyes still practically boring a hole through the door, arms crossed as he sat in the furthest corner from Mike as possible. So far neither of them had said a word to each other, both men silently protesting their forced gathering by not speaking at all.

Randy and John could still be heard from the other side of the door, sighing and grumbling to each other when no one spoke from inside the hotel room, effectively causing their brilliant plan to fail. But hey, they could force them in a room together, but they couldn't force them to talk to each other.

Mike sighed from his spot on the other side of the room, drumming his fingers against his lap in boredom. He had tried to pry open the door for awhile without much success and had admitted defeat, deciding that eventually John and Randy would get sick of sitting outside the room and they'd be able to escape from this awkward situation.

"_Will someone say something?" _Randy's voice sounded through the door, _"anything at all?" _

John and Mike looked across the room at each other, silently giving the other free reign to say something if they wanted to.

"_Oh my God, you guys are so annoying!" _Randy yelled. _"All right, if no one says anything in the next five minutes, I'm never letting you out! Yeah, fuck the show tomorrow, you guys won't be there! NOW TALK!"_

Mike groaned; time to get this over with. "So, John…uhh…nice match the other day."

John picked at his nails, avoiding Mike's eyes, "thanks. Nice…title."

"_That doesn't count!" _Cena yelled through the door, sounding equally as frustrated as his lover.

"What?" Mike yelled back, "that's not talking? That counts, now let us leave!"

"_Mike, you know damn well what you two need to talk about. Now quit being smartasses and talk to each other."_

"Fine!" Mike turned away from the door and walked over towards John, sitting on the couch next to him, "Look, I know you hate me and everything, but I want to be able to get some sleep tonight and I'm not gonna be able to do that with _those_ fuckers yelling through the door. So how bout we just get all this shit out in the open and then we can all go home."

"…Whatever," John muttered, eyes on his lap, still not meeting Mike's.

Mike sighed, running his hands over his face. "Okay, well they want us to talk about our whole hating each other thing, so I guess I should probably start out saying that I'm sorry for that."

John's head snapped up at Mike's words, brown eyes widening. "Wait, what?"

"I said I'm sorry. I guess if I hadn't have been such an asshole when we got drafted, things wouldn't have spun out of control so much."

"Are you kidding?" John said, face showing his confusion, "_I'm _the one who ruined everything. I was such a dick to you during our feud; I never should've said all that."

"Well I kinda deserved it. Plus you tried to apologize for it later; I just completely blew up at you."

John shook his head, "No, you had every right to. I was a complete asshole. I still am. Mike, you have every right to hate me…"

John muttered the last part to himself, lowering his head in shame. Mike's eyebrows knotted together in misunderstanding, confused by John's obvious regret and sadness as he tried to evade Mike's gaze.

"What—John what are you talking about? You hate _me._"

John met Mike's eyes, both searching the other's in confusion.

"_Now we're getting somewhere!" _

John sighed, breaking the moment between the two as he tiredly glanced to the door. "Randy please…can you just go somewhere?"

"_You kidding me? It's just getting good! Just pretend we're not here."_

John turned back to Mike who he had unconsciously been leaning closer to, practically now in his lap. John blushed, "Umm…you were saying?"

Mike raised his eyebrows, trying to ignore how adorable John looked when he blushed. "Uhh…right. John you hate me. I don't hate you."

John shook his head, "Nooo…you hate me. That's why you and I fight all the time."

"John, _you're _the one who fights with me. You're the one who started all this 'husky' bullshit."

"Yeah, but you fight with me too. What about all the whore comments? Those were a bit uncalled for."

Mike threw his hands up in frustration, "John, I only said all that because you were insulting me first; I was just defending myself."

"Oh," John said. Well that made him feel stupid. "So, you don't hate me then? I mean, I did punch you in the face."

"No, of course not," Mike said. "But, _that_ was a little uncalled for. You hit pretty hard, man."

John gave a weak chuckle, "Yeah, I guess. Sorry about that."

Mike smiled in response, patting John on his thigh, "It's all right."

The pair sat in silence for a moment, wondering what they should say next. Neither wanting to bring up the hidden feelings they had for the other.

"_Now tell him the rest Mikey," _Cena said through the door as if on cue. _"You can do it."_

"What's he talking about?" John asked, turning to Mike who was now the one having trouble meeting his eyes.

"Umm…God, I really hate him. Okay…John I—"

"You…what?" John asked, trying to shove down the hope threatening to surface.

"…I li—"

"_Okay my patience is up," _Randy yelled. _"My ass is sore, and I'm sick of this shit. John, Mikey is in love with you. Mike, don't be so fucking nervous, cause guess what? John loves you too. He's a little pussy who couldn't tell you two months ago and save us all of this grief. Yay, is everyone happy now?"_

John's eyes widened, practically popping out of his head. Mike…loved him? He wanted to be with him this whole time too? This was…just, way too much information to take in at once.

"I…" Mike began, seeming as shocked as John felt. "I don't even know what to say. I feel like I've been mind freaked."

John looked to Mike, bursting into laughter.

"I'm serious," Mike said smiling, beginning to chuckle himself. "How do I even respond to that?"

The two laughed with each other for a full five minutes, tears gathering in their eyes as they tried to quiet themselves, only to break out in a fit of giggles once again. They managed to control their laughs long enough to catch their breath, both men clutching their stomachs as their snickers began to die down.

"So…" John said when the two had gathered their wits and had gotten serious again, "what do we do now?"

Mike looked to John, "Umm…well I have an idea."

"What—"

John cut off his sentence as Mike pressed his lips against John's, hesitantly at first, but gaining in confidence as John closed his eyes, practically falling into Mike's arms.

Mike snaked his arm around John's lithe waist, pulling him deeper into the kiss as he licked across his bottom lip, biting it gently before soothing the soft flesh with his tongue. John slowly brought his arms up to lock around Mike's neck, shakily running his fingers through his hair, breaking the hold of the gel as he kissed back with as much fervor as he could muster, allowing Mike to slip his tongue in his mouth, causing any thoughts he may have had at the moment to drift away and out the window.

The two continued kissing each other, their bodies winding together in a tight embrace, lazily planting kisses across abused lips and heaving torsos. Mike moved to rid John of his shirt, wanting to hurry along the inevitable, when John pulled away, silently bringing his finger to his lips to make sure Mike stayed quiet.

He walked over to the door, trying to calmly catch his breath, and leaned against the door, trying to listen for any conversation between John and Randy.

"_Randy what do you think they're doing? I mean…maybe we should go in there now." _Cena whispered, barely raising his voice as he spoke to Randy.

"_Oh no," _Randy responded, slightly louder. _"If I know my boy John at all, he's tapping that ass right now. Or, well…getting _his_ ass tapped. Same difference._

John smirked, pulling himself away from the door, satisfied now that he knew neither of their friends would be interrupting anything anytime soon. He walked back over towards Miz, stripping off his shirt as he went. Hopefully he'd make Randy proud.

* * *

Mike freed his arms from around John's waist as they tumbled into Mike's bedroom, bumping into walls as they went.

"Shh…be quiet," John said as Mike rubbed the back of his head from where he hit the door frame, "they're probably still trying to listen."

"Got it," Mike said, pulling John further into the room, removing his shirt and belt before quickly returning his lips to John's.

Mike pushed and they both fell to his bed, hands grabbing for any piece of skin they could find, grasping and kneading at exposed flesh.

"You have…the best…stomach ever," Mike said, planting kisses across every line and ridge of John's stomach he could reach. "I…love your abs." Mike made a trail of wet kisses from John's abs to his throat, biting and licking at the hot skin, leaving small love bites behind.

"You're not…so bad…yourself," John said, barely managing to get those few words out as Mike completely ravaged his neck and throat. He grabbed at Mike's back, rubbing his hands across the tan skin.

Mike moaned in surprise as John shifted underneath him, inadvertently rubbing their straining members against each other through the denim of their jeans.

John gasped, throwing his head back against the pillows as rushes of pleasure ran through him, chest heaving as he shamelessly grinded himself against Mike, trying to create that wonderful friction again.

Mike put his arms on either side of John, trying to hold himself up as John continued moving his waist against Mike, pushing their groins tighter together. He moved his hands to rest on John's hips, firmly planting them against the bed and stopping his movements as he tried to catch his breath.

John panted from below him, equally as flustered, and pushed Mike to kneel back on his haunches. He leaned up on his elbows, trying to slow his breathing, and began unbuttoning his jeans, kicking them off and onto the floor, sending his boxers along with them.

Mike's eyes widened at the sight before him, not knowing where to look first. John was truly stunning and it was obvious that he worked hard for the incredible body he had. Mike licked his lips, eyes running down John's body to his hard cock, twitching in anticipation as he glanced from John's needy face back to his dick.

John bit his bottom lip, eyes practically _begging_ Mike to take him in his mouth.

Mike's lips turned up into a mischievous smirk as he leaned down to John's waist, eye-level with his throbbing member. He ran his tongue across the head, barely touching him, but still sending John into near convulsions. He lowered his head down, opening his mouth wide, as he took John's impressive length into his mouth, running his tongue across the underside as he bobbed his head up and down.

John moaned, slapping his hand over his mouth and biting as he caught himself, not wanting to be too loud.

Mike continued his ministrations, slowly moving his head and lapping at the hard flesh, moving his head downward as he felt John's dick hit the back of his throat. He stayed there for a moment, swallowing around John's cock and resisting the urge to gag as he listened to John's mewls and moans of pleasure.

He leaned up, pulling off John's dick—much to John's disappointment—and made his way down his body, licking and kissing his balls as he passed, moving further downward.

John cried out as Mike's tongue circled his hole, licking and pushing into his tight heat. "Mike! I…oh, God…do _not_ stop."

John buried his head in his arms, biting down and drawing blood as Mike's tongue continued to bury itself inside him, stretching him for later.

Mike slipped a finger into his mouth, quickly wetting it, and thrust it into John's ass, reveling in the tightness.

John had to control himself as a loud wail threatened to break through when Mike began to curl his fingers (there were _three_ now?) and stroked the spot deep inside him that made him forget everything.

"M—Mike, enough…please," John said, barely able to get the words out as Mike stroked his sweet spot once again for good measure.

Mike stood over the bed, now minus the jeans and underwear, and crawled overtop John, kissing his way up his body until he reached his lips.

He reached below him, jacking himself off a bit before slowly pressing himself against John's hole, slowly pushing in. John let out a breath as Mike pushed himself deeper, breaching his tight walls.

Mike groaned at the tightness around his dick, barely able to hold off his orgasm as he thrust further, seating himself fully in John's ass.

"Mikey…m—move. Ya gotta move. I can't take it."

Mike braced his arms above John, bending down to kiss him, sucking his tongue into his mouth. Smirking slightly, Mike pulled out slowly, leaving only the head inside, and thrust his hips forward, causing John to cry out.

Mike set a fast pace, quickly thrusting in and out of John's willing body, sloppily planting open-mouthed kisses across his heaving abs. He changed angles, trying to grab at more of John's body, and brushed up against John's prostate, making John turn into a hot, moaning mess.

Mike thrust harder, determined to make more of those beautiful noises fall from John's lips. He didn't disappoint, Mike's movements evoking more and more moans and whimpers from John as he unintentionally clamped his ass tight around Mike's dick.

Mike groaned, stilling his thrusts as he tried to gain control, nearly coming right then at the ridiculous tightness surrounding him.

"Don't stop!" John yelled, probably waking the neighbors, "Mike for the love of God, please don't stop!"

Mike took a deep breath, continuing to thrust into John's tight body, dangerously close to his coming.

"John," Mike breathed, taking John's dick into his hand, "you gotta come."

John moaned, moving his hand to join Mike's, frantically jerking his dick. "Oh, fuck…Mike!"

He let out another moan as he came, thick spurts of cum drenching his stomach and hands. Mike thrust faster into John's body, the clenching from his orgasm nearly unbearable. He wrapped his arms around John, clutching him tightly as he rode out his climax, biting John's perfect stomach to prevent screaming to loud.

He continued to thrust shallowly as he pulled out, soothing the red skin of John's abs with his tongue as he came down from his post-orgasmic high.

Mike pulled himself up, lying down beside an obviously sexually sated John. "That was…great."

John smiled, his eyelids drooping as he grew tired, (having your world rocked will do that to you) "yeah well, same to you. Now I wanna go to sleep."

John scooted closer to Mike, burying his head in his chest, Mike laying his head on top of John's as they began to fall asleep.

* * *

Randy jerked awake as his head knocked backwards against the door, "what the—?"

"Wake up."

Randy stretched, wincing as his neck popped, glancing over at his boyfriend who seemed very un-amused. "What?"

"Randy it's…" John looked at his phone for the time, "eight a.m. Can we _please_ go to our room now?"

"But…" Randy looked toward the door in confusion, "we have to make sure they don't try to escape."

John stood, bending backwards to pop his back, "Oh trust me, they won't be coming out of there anytime soon. Now let's go, I'm tired as shit."

* * *

**A/n from Jessica: teehee! hope you all enjoyed that, I know I certainly did! Personally, I have my own personal fixation on JoMo's abs so naturally Miz would as well.**

**BTW- anyone else pick up on the similarities of my version of Alex and Miz with the actual ones? I swear if the wwe steals ONE more of my ideas…**

**REVIEW! :PP**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/n from Jessica: Okay this may not be a very long chapter, but it was just a wrap up. You guys all know that last one was the real ending :)**

**Enjoy!**

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* * *

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Alex grinned to himself as he kept his eye out for his beau, Mike. After what had happened in the locker room the previous day, Alex could barely contain his excitement. He had wanted Miz to be his for so long, practically since he had met the man, and now he was finally going to be able to have him without any annoyances in the way.

Alex's smile drooped a bit as he heard laughter over his shoulder. He turned to the source coming face to face with Randy Orton.

"What are you laughing at?" Alex asked angrily; the Viper was going to ruin his dinner date.

"Oh nothing," Randy said plopping into the seat opposite Riley. "This is a nice restaurant here, huh?"

"Would you stop?" Alex batted away Randy's hand which had been trying to make off with one of the free bread sticks. "This is supposed to be a date between me and Mike. That means you aren't invited. So leave. Now."

Randy just chuckled, munching on the end of a fresh breadstick despite Riley's protests, "Is that right? You and Mike are on a date?"

"That's right; he promised he'd be here. He requested it as a matter of fact."

"Really?" Randy looked surprised. "I certainly didn't know that. Well tell me this A-Ry. If Mike _requested_ this date…where is he?"

Alex's sure and arrogant smile slipped away from him a bit, "He'll be here. He's just late or something. I told him what time the reservation was."

"Oh, you did?" Randy asked, helping himself to another bread stick and the wine drink Alex had ordered for Mike.

"Yeah I did." Alex said, scrunching his nose up in irritation at Randy's presence. "Well I didn't tell him directly, but I left him a voicemail."

"Hmm…when'd you leave the voicemail, Alex?"

Alex paused to think, "Uhh…this morning? Around nine or so."

"Uh-huh," Randy took a sip of the rich red wine, seemingly thinking something over. "Well would you like to know why it was exactly Miz didn't answer his phone? Cause I know why."

Alex glared at Randy, completely un-amused by his entire performance. "Sure Randy, please tell me why. Maybe then you'll leave."

Randy smiled in response, "I wouldn't count on it. You know just how much I love spending time with you A-Ry."

Alex groaned, practically slamming his head down on the finely set table in frustration. "My God, will you just say your peace and leave?"

Randy prolonged his response, looking down at an invisible watch, "Well I guess, if that's what you really want…"

"Do I want you to leave? Let me think: YES!"

Randy held his hands up in faux defensiveness, "All right son, cool your jets. Fine. The reason Mr. Mizanin was unable to come to the phone and take your call was because he was otherwise occupied with fucking John Morrison."

Alex's jaw dropped in complete shock, "He WHAT?"

Randy nodded wisely, "Yes my friend—you heard right. They were having sex, fucking, doing it, bumping uglies, doing the horizontal tango, butt-fucking—"

"I GOT IT!" Alex yelled flustered, tears practically streaming down his face in anger and embarrassment.

"Yep…well, I guess I better be on my way." Randy downed Alex's glass of wine before rising to his feet, clapping his hand on his shoulder in what he attempted to be a comforting gesture. "It'll be okay pal. Oh, and in case you didn't get the point, Miz won't be joining you for dinner tonight…or ever for that matter. Have a nice meal."

Randy walked off and out of the building, leaving Alex to process the new information.

Alex sat in his chair stunned, half wanting to jump up and confront Mike in his hotel room right then, half wanting to go by a pint of Rocky Road and watch a romantic comedy.

He jumped in surprise as his phone rang, blaring 'I Came to Play' loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear.

"Mike?" Alex answered frantically, hope swelling in his heart.

"Yeah, try again."

Alex gasped, recognizing the low, mellow voice immediately, "You mother fucking bitch! What did you do to Michael? Did you brainwash him you fucking whore?"

John laughed low in his throat, utterly amused at the pissed off rookie, "Nah, I'm just amazing in bed. Which reminds me. I'm sure Randy's already told you to piss off…I suggest you listen to him."

"Oh yeah?" Alex challenged, raising his voice, "Or what? What if I don't want to leave him alone?"

"Then I suggest you find another meal ticket."

Holy shit! That was his Mike!

"Mike, look I don't what he's told you or done to you, but I swear it's all right—I forgive you 100% baby!"

"Yeah, I don't think so. Please leave us alone. We don't want this to be awkward do we Alex?"

"But—but!"

"Okay bitch, get this through your head," that was Morrison's voice now. "Mike's mine. He's never wanted you and he never will. So leave us the fuck alone or I'll kick your mother fucking ass."

Alex bit off a comeback as he was hung up on, the dial tone ringing in his ears.

His eyes narrowed in anger—this would never be over. He'd never give up on having Mike.

* * *

**A/n from Jessica: What the fuck when did A-Ry turn into the chick from fatal attraction? Lol. I have no idea where THAT came from but I may offer a spin off for this…maybe being the key word. Don't hold me to that, I have a disease known as extreme laziness.**


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